


dear god, hope you find this letter

by galaxymuncher



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Other, Underage Smoking, Vegas Days, also a small bit of boreo, also xandra is there I guess, boris needs a hug and some therapy, small mentions of theo/larry/popchyk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 15:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21304160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxymuncher/pseuds/galaxymuncher
Summary: I pray that you make it better down here
Kudos: 19





	dear god, hope you find this letter

The first thing he felt that evening was the cold air brush against his bare skin, chilling him to the core. Goosebumps rising, shivering in place, yet he doesn’t seem to care really. Tossing some hair out of his face he finds himself curling up where he laid on the carpeted floor, entranced by a disgusting stain that had set in. He knows where that stain came from, days of drinking recklessly, the first night they tried mixing a few together didn’t end up well.

_“Potter! Watch where you’re going!”_

_“Get out of my fucking way then, asshole!”_

_“You’re going to make a mess!”_

_“ ‘S my room, I can do whatever the fuck I want to it”_

_“Shit Potter! The fucking carpet!”_

_“Ah it’s fine! I’ll clean it up later, now, hand me some more gin”_

They never could get it out properly, no matter how much cleaner they used, the carpet was trashed but they didn’t want to admit to either Xander or his dad about what happened for fear of the backlash. His finger traced the rim of it, back and forth, memorizing the outer edge of a curve mindlessly. There really much else he could do, what with it being past 12 AM and all, the alcohol was low, the money was gone, and his supply wouldn’t come in till Monday at the earliest, so he’d have to suffer slight withdrawal over the weekend until then. Though he could rationalize it in his mind, yes there would be more soon just wait, the one thing that scared him was living with his thoughts for 3 straight days.

Sitting up, stretching, he decided that it was getting too fucking cold for his liking, crawling until he reached the edge of the sheets of the bed before stopping dead in his tracks. For the first time in his life, Boris realized just how much he truly hated being cold. He’d been around the world, living in Ukraine, parts of Russia, Australia, Texas, etc. and could stand the living conditions, yet, as much as he complained about the heat, the cold is what he deeply despised. He rose to his feet slowly, feeling his legs shake, until eventually he flopped himself onto the top with all the strength he had mustered. The sheets felt as they always did, cheap yet comfortable, the scent however...he still lingered there, in small bits but still ever present.

“Jesus Christ Potter…haunting me like a fucking ghost”

His face lay flat against the covers, inhaling every bit he could, hands bunching up the fabric in his grip. It was strange, the little things could really get to someone, couldn’t they? From smells to the cadence in their voice whenever they went on about something they liked. And when they were gone, it’s all you had left.

_“Boris? What the fuck are you doing?”_

Immediately his head went up in the hopes that the familiar small frame of his close friend was there, standing in the doorway, arms crossed with that smirk on his face, only to be greeted with nothing. His mind was playing tricks again, wanting to drive him nuts to make him give up this fruitless task and get on with his life.

_He’s not there anymore, so what’s the point in trying? New York was more important than you, he made that choice, so make yours._

How ridiculous, he had to laugh. His mind was being an absolute shit! Sounded like something out of a stupid movie that chicks would watch and cry about on the weekends to their friends. Mindless and dumb...what was that word? That r word that made people sound smart?

“Rhu--Rhhheea---Fucking hell”

There’d be time to look it up later if he ever gave a shit, which he really didn’t. With a sigh he lowered himself back down onto the sheets, holding a bundle close to his chest. Softly a knock came to the door, didn’t even make him flinch.

“Come in”

Slowly the door creaked open, revealing Xandra in her work uniform. She must’ve just come home since she wasn’t even changed, he thought, as he watched her walk over, standing over him with arms crossed.

“I thought I’d find you here...there’s leftovers downstairs if you want any, I’m heading to bed now...Goodnight Boris”

“ ‘Night Xandra, thank you”

She left without another word, not another regard for his existence either. Did she even give a shit that he was still here? Living amongst the memories of her late boyfriend and his child while trying to regain her life just to pay the bills? As much as he wanted to admit that she didn’t, exhaustion was taking over so he really didn’t want to contemplate that possibility just yet. Instinctively he went to pat his legs, stopping once he realized that there was no longer a dog to call either, crawling under the sheets instead.

Hours rolled by, 1 AM, 2 AM, 4 AM, and yet there he laid still, wide awake, hands grasping onto the cotton fabric, eyes looking dead ahead at the wall in front of him, unmoving. Though he was warm under the bundle, a creeping feeling of cold came over him again, causing him to shiver out of pure reflex. Tossing and turning, laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, it was frustrating just how badly he wanted to sleep! Why wouldn’t his mind just shut the fuck up and let him rest already!! Morning was just around the corner, he needed a recharge badly or else he feared that he’d be running on completely empty tomorrow, something he just couldn’t have.

Turning again, side facing the other wall, the side he never faced...that was his side, not Boris’. They both had their designated sides of the bed, decided upon by a game of rock, paper, scissors, punch (like the original with their own added tweeks), one was not allowed on the others side unless explicit permission was given. His was the right, Boris’ was the left, that is how it was and always would’ve been.

“Oh fuck it, he’s not here, so why should I keep following it? Stupid agreement anyways”

With one quick breath, the process of scooting to the right side began, one inch, another inch, oh look now he’s at the edge! He made it, take THAT. A small smile came to his face in triumph, there was one barrier crossed! Hopefully this would put an end to his sleep issue and some well deserved shut eye could be obtained. Crickets had already quit their nighttime ritual, replacing themselves with the chirps of birds, greeting one another, hello, hi, how are you? How are the kids? Did you sleep well? Annoying enough that humans did greetings that were actually understandable, but did the birds need to do that too?? Eventually his eyelids began to slowly close, breathing softening, sleep was finally overtaking him.

In a blink, the world was different. Boris stood alone in the living room downstairs, hands in his pockets, feet shuffling awkwardly. He had no reasonable idea as to why he was there, was he waiting for someone? Why couldn’t he remember? Surely he’d remember something as important as meeting someone, wouldn’t he? Or was that something he’d put in the back of his mind for later, only for it to never ever come back? He hated to admit it but...that had happened more than once, mainly in regards to classwork however, not when it came to people. Just as he began to move out of the area...there he stood, leaning against a wall in the hall, just underneath a portrait, smile on his face as he lifted off to move toward him.

_“Boris! There you are! We’ve gotta get going or else we’ll be late”_

“Late? For what Potter?”

_“Just come on already!”_

His hand reached out to grab him, yanking him out the door, into the desert. Stars twinkled brightly above them as they always did, constellations forming right in front of him, did that always happen? They kept marching along, feet stomping against dried dirt with heavy crunches, never stopping until they reached where he wanted them to be apparently: the abandoned playground.

“Why are we here?”

_“You’ll see, now c’mere”_

His body was jerked once more in a direction, allowing himself to be led instead of doing the leading, it felt nice for once to be the follower. The two sat down upon the rusted merry-go-round, side by side, gazing up at the sky in silence. He had no clue what was going on...until he saw the first shooting star cross the sky, then another, and then tons were flying by: a meteor shower. He’d heard of them plenty of times in his life, many tales spun of tons of stars flying as fast as they could against the vast sky, on their way to their next destination in the form of a race. All he could do was sit in stupid wonder, this was his first one ever, and dear god was it ever beautiful.

“Holy shit! This is...wow”

_“Isn’t it? My mother used to tell me about these, how wonderful they were...and when I found out there’d be another one coming up, I wanted you to see it with me”_

Looking to the figure next to him, clearly his excitement was inescapable. Was this what true bliss was like? Sitting under stars so beautiful with the one you care about most? Cause if this was...then he was living it. A cold hand touching his interrupted his train of thought, making him instinctively look over, inspecting every inch of him, his grey wool sweater, the thick round frames that highlighted his natural facial features, the way his brown hair flowed gently in the slight night breeze, all of it.

“Potter…”

His companion looked over, smile seemingly never fading, grip on his hand tightening.

_“Yeah?”_

Taking a deep breath, he decided it was now or never. His heart began to race, _bah-dum, bah-dum, bah-dum_, body shaking as he moved closer, hearing the rusted metal creak and clank with every movement, until eventually they were face to face, breath warm on their faces. Boris leaned in, giving a peck upon the lips, a better one, less sloppy and fast, more calm, calculated, planned. It felt...absolutely right, everything fell perfectly into place, and yet when he opened his eyes...he was back in the room, back flat, facing the ceiling. His face felt wet, his chest heavy with a weight unlike anything he’d ever known. As he wiped his face he realized that he had been crying the entire time.

“...you bastard, ya tebya lyublyu...ya lyublyu tebya vsey dushoy”

This was a disaster, the world was crumbling in front of him already and it hadn’t even been a full week yet. Everything began to blur as more tears slipped out, sobs escaping one after another until he just couldn’t stop them. Curling back into a ball, Boris held the sheets close to him, crying into them as he saw all the images come to him that he’d been fighting back for so long. There he was...laying beside him, arms interlocked with his, complete safety, his scent close and welcoming. The ghost of what used to be lay next to him, wrapping their arms around his waist much like he used to do, face buried in his back, it was all too much.

“Jesus Christ what is all that r---oh…”

His head lifted up briefly, sniffling, he must’ve looked like a complete mess...unexceptable if he was to stay in such a lovely lady like Xandra’s home, quickly he tried to wipe away as many tears as he could.

“I-I am so sorry”

“Hey no, stop that”

Her hands came to his wrists, moving them down so that she could get a better look at him. Her eyes felt like they were burning a hole right through him, making him completely vulnerable...he never cried, not once, in front of anyone other than him, there was nobody else he trusted more.

“Now, is it...about Theo?”

A nod.

“I see, I’m sorry...there isn’t much I can do but---would you like a drink? I could let you have one of my cigarettes, just this ONE time however”

Another sniffle, more tears falling out. Boris didn’t know what to say, so instead he nodded again, finding himself unable to get words out. Xandra left the room quickly, her heels click click clicking against the hardwood in the kitchen, eventually coming back with a wine glass in one hand, cigarette and lighter in the other. He accepted the drink, placing it on the side table for later, then reaching out for the cigarette, letting her light it for him. In the time she’d been gone, he’d taken a pillow from behind him and put it against his chest, holding it as close as he possibly could.

“Thank you...I’m sorry again for uh...you seeing me like that”

“It’s alright, I’m hurting as much as you are...first losing Larry in the crash, then his son in the dead of night all in one go? It’s a lot for one person to have to grieve over”

“...Yeah, it is”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go along with him, you two are practically melded at the hip---so when you turned up at my door the night after? I was completely shocked”

Silence. He didn’t want to admit his true reasoning as to why he didn’t want to go, it was too big for her to even understand, she’d be on his ass in one minute and all hospitality that had been offered would be for naught. For now he’d keep his mouth shut and come up with some menial lie instead.

“I...my father, biggest asshole alive, was leaving soon with or without me, I wanted to try to get as much of my stuff as I could, get ready to catch Potter...but I didn’t have enough money to get to him, so I’m stuck here”

“What happened to all that money you two jacked from me?”

“Wasted it all on drinks and food”

“I see…”

She turned to face him better, one hand placed firmly into her lap, other hand pressed onto his shoulder in some form of comfort.

“Well, maybe if you found a job or something you’d get enough to get to him, I’d offer you some of my savings but I need them for payments and basic necessities and shit...I have to get going to work now, but like I said last night, leftovers in the fridge, I’ll be back later”

Getting up from her place, she sauntered off out of the room, briefly looking back at him with a soft, half-hearted smile, before closing the door behind her. Now he understood why Theo would complain about her often, though she was beautiful and charming, she really didn’t understand the whole sympathy/empathy thing, moreso she cared about herself. Sighing, Boris put out the cigarette, taking a small sip from the glass, his face scrunching up a bit with the bitter taste of the wine, then laid back down on the bed, pillow still close. Laying there made his eyes struggle to stay open, making him want to wander back to sleep for a while, however the headache that was pounding at him had other plans.

“God fucking dammit, where did I put the aspirin?”

Slowly lifting up, hand held firmly against the side of his head, his eyes scanned around for the familiar bottle they kept for emergency hangovers, only to spot the edge of wrapped newspaper peeking out from behind the dresser. Suddenly he was thrust into overdrive as he made his way over, grabbing out the familiar rectangular shaped item, hands shaking as he scanned it over. Did Xandra spot it?? Of course she didn’t, if she did she would’ve mentioned it in their conversation, but---what if she DID see it and didn’t say anything?? God the paranoia was getting too much for him, this...how did he ever manage to stay sane while in possession of this thing??

_“Boris, come here, I wanna show you something!”_

_“What the hell is it?”_

_“Just wait, hold on, I gotta get it out---”_

_“Wait...Potter---”_

_“Ta-da! What do ya think?”_

_“Is that---”_

_“Yep! The real deal! The Goldfinch, painted by Fabritius in 1654, and I’ve got it all to myself!”_

_“Potter, you need to take that back”_

_“I will, I will---just, lemme hold onto it for a while, keep it safe...that’s what she would’ve wanted”_

_“What?”_

_“It’s...mine, Boris, it’s mine now, a part of me, I can’t let it go easily, it’s hers and I don’t...don’t wanna lose that bit of her again, it’s all I have of the Before now”_

_“You’re going nuts Potter”_

_“Am I??? Cause I think what I’m saying makes PERFECT sense”_

_“Lets...go back downstairs, put that away and we’ll get back to our film”_

That night...was the first night he caught a glimpse of it, he took it out of the packaging when he was passed out to see if it was all a bluff or not. Much to his surprise, the painting was indeed real, heavier than he imagined in his rough hands, a delicate piece of work, the urge to hold onto it was strong. Under the cover of night, he quickly swapped out his useless civics book, roughly the same size and shape, for the painting and never once looked back.

“I’m...sorry, Potter, I took your bird…you were right, it was yours to keep...not mine”

Before safely tucking it away in a new hiding spot, Boris placed the painting to his chest, feeling his beating heart as he held it close, feeling the connection despite being miles away by now. Looking at the time, he decided it was time to start the day, there’d be time for moping about later, for now it was time to see what was in the fridge. With a swift movement he was at the door, holding the knob as he looked back, a stray tear going down his face as he exited, shutting the door, he’d be back again...but for now he’d have to shut him out, lock him carefully away behind lock and chain so nobody but him could enter.


End file.
